Affection and Affectation
by ElvishKiwis Venerated Ancestor
Summary: How did Eleanor and Henry Tilney become such charming, unaffected gentlefolk when their Paternal influence was so strongly to the contrary? This story is an opportunity to meet Mrs Emily Tilney and see alternative influences at work. Rated T for psychologically disturbing scenes.
1. Chapter 1: Fun with Feathers

Chapter One: "Fun with Feathers"

There is a German Philosopher who postulates that Human Beings have evolved from frogs and lizards, fish and all sorts of other creatures. Ridiculous as that may seem, there is no doubt that on a frosty spring morning, young girls do manifest the same gravitation towards sunny basking places as many of their alleged cousins.

Eleanor Tilney was no exception. Her bedroom faced south and was equipped with a large window seat whereupon she was engaged in penning an epistle to her friend.

She was a slim dainty child, teetering on the brink of womanhood. Her golden brown tresses curled attractively around her shoulders and were held back from her eyes with a broad blue ribbon which matched the trim on her white muslin gown. Her complexion was fair, her eye bright and intelligent with a hint of humour, her movements graceful, and her brow creased in concentration as she attempted to master a new style of handwriting, with far more ornamentation than her usual hand.

So engrossed was she in her calligraphic exertions that she did not hear the rap of her brothers knuckles on the solid oak door. Henry, a youth of sixteen years, grinned at the sight of his sister's startled face on perceiving him at the door. Eleanor's countenance was soon overcome with smiles as he strode across the room. She made room for him on the seat beside her.

"Oh Henry, why did you not knock? I thought you were Father", she exclaimed, wisely removing the ink pot from the window ledge back to the open secretaire beside her.

Arrested in the process of making himself comfortable amongst his sister's cushions, Henry slowly and with dignity returned to his feet. Raising one eyebrow and fixing her with a challenging glare reminiscent of his intimidating parent he deepened his voice to its adolescent depths.

"And why, pray tell, would the entrance of your Father fill you with such alarm, hmm? What are you attempting to conceal? "

Giggling, Eleanor clutched her letter to her chest and scrambled away from his reach. Henry abandoned all semblance of dignity and lunged after her, scattering papers all over the floor, and Eleanor dived for her bed, rolling dexterously across it to the other side where she attempted to hide behind its draperies.

Henry was not far behind her and began prodding her through the cloth with a brass candlestick, conveniently snatched from her bedside table.

"Oh, Leave me alone," Eleanor's voice was muffled equally by velvet and laughter.

"T'is only a letter to Cassandra. I was worried Father was going to require me to practice the pianoforte instead of allowing me to write in peace. "

"I don't believe you!" The stern growly voice was an effort to maintain while attempting to wrestle the draperies off his sister.

"That was not your handwriting. You have convinced me by your guilty manner that you are sending and receiving secret conspiracies against his majesties Armed forces!"

"How could you suspect such a thing, Henry!" Eleanor emerged wide eyed and incredulous.  
"Read it yourself. I was simply attempting to beautify my style, like Cassandra does in her letters… don't you think it is an improvement? She smiled shyly, all memory of her treasonous charges forgotten in her anxiety to please.

Henry accepted the suspected document and returned to the sunshine, an amused smile on his face as he perused the lines of elaborate swirls and flourishes before him.

"Very pretty indeed for a grape arbour, but not so useful on a page of script… unless your aim is to conceal rather than communicate." was his wry comment.

He read on, turning the page and then returned to the former one with a frown on his face. "Nora, this sentence goes on for almost an entire side and communicates no less than what we had for breakfast this morning; a detailed description of Frederick's new uniform; and the style in which you and mother arranged hyacinths in mothers new vase! Do you not understand the use of a period and paragraphing?"

Eleanor's expectant look descended into a pout."If you're set to tease about it, I shan't allow you to read it", she snatched the letter from him and locked it in her secretaire, placing the key in the pocket of her gown.

"Nay, Nay Eleanor my dear, This will not do!"Henry had reverted to his Father's tones and mannerisms again.

"If you refuse to become educated in such matters I shall take the office of your scribe, to protect the family reputation from the charge of ignorance. Now relinquish the key to me or I shall be forced to torture you for it!"

Eleanor shrieked and ducked under his arm, clutching her pocket tightly. At that moment however, Henry spied the bookcase above the seretaire and allowed his prey to escape unscathed while he reached for a brown notebook.

"Ah, This should suit my purpose: Your journal. Perhaps you were confused before and thought to draw rather than write to Miss Clousten. Herein contains a far superior sample of your skill without the distraction of unruly creepers."

Eleanor gave a cry of dismay and attempted to snatch the book out of his grasp, but to no avail. Henry had the advantage over her of almost half a foot, to which he added the height of the window seat and his long arms.

"Let me see… Oh here is a prime example: 'Mother and I went shopping for a green bonnet this morning to match my striped rosebud morning dress and of course we also needed shoes and a sash which I thought I would go well in pink on account of the roses and Mother wanted some pale blue drill for Henry's shirtwaist to match his eyes and while we were at the drapers who do you suppose we saw?'

"… All without so much as a comma my dear sister, and you ought to have recorded how exceedingly fine and intelligent Henry's eyes are - an unforgivable oversight!

He continued reading while Eleanor, frustrated at his height advantage, proceeded to set about him with a large cushion in expectation of toppling him from the window seat.

"'It was the eldest Miss Fraser out strolling with her latest beau Captain Sniggling wearing a pelisse made entirely of white duck feathers!' Upon my Word! What a sight that must have been! Captain Sniggling is like to be court-martialed for making such a goose of himself in public. Or perhaps they will only need to add some tar, since he so obligingly provided the feathers."

Eleanor, with a well aimed shot managed to knock her journal out of Henry's hand. He immediately armed himself with a pair of cushions and proceeded to punish her for her impertinence by chasing her across the room, bestowing his blows on whatever part of her fleeing anatomy he could reach.

What Eleanor lacked in strength she made up for in agility, turning and dashing past him as soon as she felt herself cornered. Henry spun after her, but she had grabbed the poker from the fireplace and was ready for him.

"Aha! Swords, is it?"

Henry tossed aside one of his cushions and, using the other as a shield, extended the abandoned candlestick which he deftly collected from the bed as he circled around her, seeking a weakness in her guard. Eleanor lunged and there was an ominous tearing sound as the poker rent an enormous gash in her brother's shield. She had no time to exclaim over it however, for all her attention was required to protect herself from the retaliatory candlestick which was swooping through the cloud of feathers toward her head like a falcon raiding a starling's nest.

Neither of them heard the door open behind them, and when Eleanor heard her Father's voice demanding an explanation, she initially thought it was Henry again. However, the look on her brother's face and his instant cessation enlightened her as to her mistake.

"What is the meaning of this behaviour?" General Tilney demanded, scowling at each of his offspring in turn. Eleanor was afraid to lift her eyes from the incriminating feathers which carpeted her floor, but the flush on her cheek indicated her agitation at his unanswerable enquiry.

"Eleanor, your room is in a shocking state. You are to clean it entirely, then report to me in the library."

"Father, you mustn't ring a peal over Eleanor. It was my fault entirely." A pale faced Henry quickly stepped in front of his frightened sister and boldly looked his Father in the eye. "I discovered that she desired to construct a goose feather pelisse, so I took it upon myself to provide her with the feathers." He glanced around affecting an astonishment he did not feel.

"I never expected them to spread so, upon you entering the room."

Gen. Tilney scrutinised the two of them for a moment before answering."In that case you may go to your pianoforte after you have re- ordered this room Eleanor. I have not heard you practicing today."

Turning to his son he frowned angrily "What did you mean by such behaviour Henry? I intend to enquire further into this matter " Gen. Tilney placed a firm hand on the back of Henry's shoulders and propelled him out of the room, but not before the latter had time to wink at his sister who looked more alarmed at the prospect of Henry's approaching chastisement, than she had at her own.

Somewhat reassured however by his optimistic countenance, she set to gathering feathers with the hint of a smile about the corners of her eyes.

**Here it is finally, the long awaited Magnum Opus which has been worked over like the famous bit of ivory 2 inches thick on which Jane Austen worked with so fine a brush. **

**My plan is that this story will be told in three parts:  
Part 1 -A Prequel to Northanger Abbey, set in the final year of Mrs Tilney's life  
Part 2 - Three years later , still prior to Northanger Abbey but focused more on Eleanor.  
Part 3 – Concurrent with Northanger Abbey following the fortunes of Eleanor's thwarted suitor.**

**I feel obliged to warn you that this story will be slow to update. I have 7 chapters written but owing to the busyness of life home educating 5 children, with 3 more children, a husband and petting zoo to care about and a business run from home, I have only an average of 1 hour writing time per week. Those seven chapters have taken 3 years! However if I get the impression that this story is of worth to you, it may be a spur to do some all nighters to keep you satisfied...  
The updating schedule at this point is approximately monthly.**

Special thanks to Clar the Pirate, who has kindly helped me with my regency language and to Captain Fantastic who gave me the nudge I needed to actually post it instead of hording it for fear of casting my proverbial pearl before swine. (Not that you lovely people are pigs of course, but I have the usual anxiety that people do on such occassions).


	2. Chapter 2: A Maternal Mentor

Chapter Two: A Maternal Mentor: 

The assertion that people derive their greatest pleasure from those least like themselves in temperament is usually debatable, and oftentimes decidedly false. Some would propose that our most ancient parents were designed to compliment and complete each other, and therefore the adage "opposites attract" is a divine edict: a natural law no less reliable than gravity.

In the Tilney household however, the magnetism of dissimilarity culminated in the mysterious forces which compelled Captain Ferdinand Tilney, twenty years ago, to fuse Miss Emily Drummond to himself in Holy Matrimony. Each spouse esteemed and respected the other, one could even say 'loved' (in the loyal, familiar, 'worn-out-slippers' sense of the word), yet each reserved their fondest affection for the progeny who most reflected their own character and values.

Frederick had long nurtured the ambitious and adventuresome spirit which lured him, like his father before him, towards a Military career. Like the General, he had a shrewd, calculating mind which made strategic reasoning a valuable instinct in warfare. The same attribute was perhaps not so admirable in civilian affairs.

Henry had the same lexophiliac vocabulary which his maternal Grandfather had installed in their only child and he was a sensitive young man who balanced his academic interests in the arts, justice, history, literature and religion, with a keen interest in people.

Eleanor's delight in History resembled her mother as surely as her golden hair and high graceful brow were derived from her Father. Nay more so indeed, as the latter was simply a matter of genetics, while the former was not only pre-determined, but actively encouraged every time the female members of the family spent more than a half hour alone together. Friday afternoons were devoted to its indulgence at a level designed to satisfy even the most devoted scholar.

"Have all our monarchs had their marriages arranged then?" Eleanor asked Mrs Tilney as they poured together over the fifth volume of Hume's 'History of England'.

"Mostly my dear. A monarch must always look to the interests of his country not his own preferences. Even when a marriage partner has been chosen for love, say in the case of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, the field of selection was always limited to a small number of suitable applicants, and had she not been well connected you may be assured the match would have been prevented."

"So wherefore the reason for Prince George marrying Princess Caroline of Brunswick? They don't seem to get along at all, and Brunswick is hardly a great power."

"Eleanor, it is not our place to critique the relationships of others, especially those whom God has called us to honour."

"I am sorry mother." Eleanor coloured and looked down at her folded hands.

"Brunswick may not be a great power, but it is a Protestant nation and a valuable ally in our resistance to the French revolutionaries. They require our armed forces to assist them in containing the French militia, and we need them to be stalwart so that France will be too busy repelling the Germans to consider crossing the channel and invading us."

"Oh, I see..."

Mrs Tilney quietly watched Eleanor stare, distractedly, at the book in front of her for several minutes with a small frown set between her eyes.

"I believe you have studied enough today." she announced as she returned the volumes to their place on the oak shelves beside the ornate fifteenth century fireplace. "Let us walk in the grounds. We still have an hour before dinner".

Eleanor obediently sorted her notes into a pile and returned her ink pot and quills to the éscrit armoire.

Mrs Tilney stepped into the hall, prevailed upon a passing parlour maid to fetch their bonnets, then returned to the library love seat where Eleanor sat gazing through the French window at the vista beyond.

"What is troubling you my love?" she enquired gently, joining her daughter on the seat to await the return of the maid.

"Oh, nothing whatsoever" Eleanor exclaimed with a start and a blush.

"That is to say... nothing important... I mean, well I guess it is important really..." Eleanor looked at her mother and then at the door as it opened. Louise, her mother's chambermaid entered bearing bonnets and a light crochet shawl for each of them, along with a parasol for Mrs Tilney.

Suitably clad for a sunny but cool afternoon, they resumed their conversation while strolling across the expansive lawn.

"I was just thinking about whom I might marry some day and wondering if I should be allowed a choice, or if Father would make the decision for me." Eleanor spoke the words flippantly, belying the significance of her musings, but Mrs Tilney would consider herself a poor mother if she had failed to detect, in the heightened colour and slight quiver of the lip, an emotion out of proportion with the tone.

"You are too young, Nora, to fret about such things. You have not yet come out in society."

Emily Tilney glanced at her daughter's serious face, then, reconsidering, she gently enquired:

"What do you dread?"

For several yards they walked in silence as Eleanor struggled to find expression for fears which had been multiplying over recent months.

"Father seems so determined to associate with the rich and influential that I fear he will marry me to someone well bred and connected but wholly lacking in any nobler _feeling_...

"The only boys in the neighbourhood whom Father would even consider for me are the horrid Fraser boys, and I couldn't endure life married to one of them!" Eleanor shuddered at the thought and drew her shawl closer around her shoulders as if the chill of such a future had sent out frigid fingers to disturb her present.

" My dear girl, no wonder you are so troubled. Do not imagine your choice to be limited to those who live here in _shire. When the time comes there will be many young men of far worthier character than Charles and Thomas Fraser for you to meet. I give you my word, as far as it depends upon me, you shall not be sold off like cattle to the highest bidder. You may count on your Father having strong opinions of who is a suitable suitor for his only daughter, but I know him to be a reasonable man, and am confident he would not force you to marry against your wishes."

Eleanor stopped and turned to regard her mother seriously. She could see the sincerity in her greyblue eyes, so like Henry's, and she knew that what her mother pledged, she would fulfill.

They turned together down the path at the edge of the lawn which led through the Spruce grove. Eleanor's gentle squeeze of her mother's arm was all the reassurance the latter needed to know that the world was right again with her daughter.

The two walked through the shady paths in companionable silence. The heavy boughs of evergreen blocked all but the most persistent sunbeams, and the needles crunched underfoot, releasing the pleasant scent redolent of pine sap and cones cracking open by a winter fire.

" 'Yea, though I walk through death's dark vale, I shall not fear,

For thou art with me.

Thy rod and staff they comfort me...' " quoted Emily Tilney softly to herself.

" I always think of those verses when I am in the spruce grove. I think that is why I love this path so much. Be content, Eleanor. You need never despair no matter the trials with which Providence sees fit to test you. Jesus, the good Shepherd, will not allow one of his lambs to go through such times alone. None of us may know the future..." her voice trailed off, and a small frown marred her countenance briefly, -then it vanished, replaced by dancing eyes and a winsome smile.

"But only remind yourself of how the psalm ends:

'Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever!'

"Even should the worst come true and you did marry one of those "horrid Fraser boys," eternal residence in the Lord's house is a fair consolation. Do you not agree?" The playful smile was replaced by an earnest searching gaze as Mrs Tilney paused and turned to take both of her daughter's hands in her own.

"The mercy and goodness of God are such precious treasures to a daughter of the Lord of heaven and earth, that temporary hardship is more of a privilege than a burden. You have not had to endure such things yet my dear, but every child of God must experience trials. It is the only way to grow strong in Spirit. Fear not the future, rather embrace it. There is no cause to dread the storms with God at the helm."

The two resumed their meandering pace. After some time, Eleanor, who had been quietly pondering her mother's wisdom, smiled her relief and responded.

"You know, I don't feel afraid anymore, Mother. I am sure that with you to guide me and Father, my husband will be just the sort of man who I could delight to be united to, and the things you said about trials are just what I have noticed myself, although I am sure my little disappointments and inconveniences are nothing compared with the martyrs Henry has been reading to me about...

"Did you know there was a young mother who had to stand by and watch her seven-year-old child scourged with whips and endure his head being plucked of hair for refusing to deny that Christ was the only God, until finally he was beheaded? When I think of the courage and faith that small child and mother showed under such hardships, then putting up with Frederick's teasing is not such a trial at all."

"Fredrick's teasing you say?" demanded Henry; startling her into a small scream by pouncing on her from behind. "What about _my_ teasing! I flatter myself that I far excel Frederick in such matters. After all, I am forever honing my skills, while he neglects his shamefully."

Mrs Tilney laughed at the affected sulk her youngest son assumed as he matched his stride to the ladies.

Eleanor smiled adoringly at Henry as he tucked her small hand into the crook of his left arm while his mother gratefully availed herself of support from the other.

"Oh your teasing is not a trial, Henry, I like it..." The smile faded a trifle as the shadow of a recent memory or two marred her optimism. "Well, most of the time, that is. As long as it doesn't involve father's garden compost..."

Mrs Tilney raised her eye brow inquiringly, and Henry had the grace to look bashful.

"Well how was I to know she would actually try it as a facial cleanser? Naivety personified! The smell alone would put any less informed person off, even if one was ignorant enough to fall for my assurances that the ancient Celts used it to prepare brides for their wedding ceremonies.

Mrs Tilney tried very hard to stifle a laugh and maintain a stern disapproving countenance, but succeeded only while she kept her gaze fixed on the ground. The moment her twinkling eyes met their reflection in the face of her son, the mirth would not be contained. Even Eleanor had to give over her attempt to appear indignant and offended and join them in their amusement.

"That explains the rash you had last weekend, Nora," Mrs Tilney said at last, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with an elegantly monogrammed handkerchief. "There might have been something in the mix which reacted to your skin. It is commendable that you did not betray your brother when your Father criticised your complexion at Sunday dinner."

"Oh, Dinner! That reminds me!" Henry immediately increased their pace until Eleanor had to trot to keep up. "I was sent by father to recall you to the fact that dinner would be served in 15 minutes, and we have spent..." he dropped Eleanor's hand to consult the fob from the pocket in his waistcoat, "...eight minutes of the fifteen reflecting on the benefit of applying ancient Celtic arts to the modern complexion. You ladies had better apply some Hellenistic athletic arts to the modern toilette if you hope to freshen up and be in the dining hall punctually."

By the time this astonishing recommendation was received Eleanor, and Mrs Tilney were being ushered, chuckling, into the back stairway which led from the stable yard to their upstairs apartments.

**Mrs Emily Tilney is my favourite character. I would dearly love to hear what your impressions are of her. This whole story is inspired by speculations about how Henry and Eleanor could come to have such strong admirable character in the face of their Father's mercenary attitudes. I decided long ago the key must lie in Mrs Tilney's story. So here you have it.**

**Much thanks to In-Christ-Billios for her editing skills. If there are any mistakes remaining I take full responsibility for them. They are most likely from my last minute changes.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Annual Parish Picnic

**Thanks to Clar the Shakespearian Pirate, and In-Christ-Billios for being my 'Oh so helpful' betas. Pretty much all the characters in this chapter, other than the Tilney Family, are mine, and any names or personalities which resemble real people have been used either coincidently or with the permission of their original owners (Thanks Rach!).**

Chapter Three: The Parish Picnic

No sooner had the Tilney Carriage arrived than it was surrounded by small children from the parish jostling for the privilege of playing porter to Mrs Tilney. Ma'am T'ney, as she was known, was very popular among the youngest generation, as much for her kind attentions as for the copper coins she discretely slipped to those with the privilege of carrying the heavy picnic supplies.

Their arrival attracted no small amount of attention from the older in the congregation too. Several of the ladies smiled a warm greeting as the carriage slowed to a stop, and waved lace handkerchiefs and gloves to Mrs Tilney. The obsequious Rector appeared from nowhere to open the door of the carriage, and immediately led Captain Tilney past the tables of food and milling crowd to the side entrance of the manse. A number of youths loitered near the stone wall which separated the graveyard from the pleasure grounds. All but one of them swaggered over to greet Frederick as he leapt down from his seat beside the driver.

Henry emerged from the carriage and turned to assist his mother with the step. When it was Eleanor's turn, he grabbed her around the waist and swung her down as if she had been a small child. Mrs Tilney smiled at Eleanor's indignant protest as Henry dashed off to see his friend Theodore, who was grinning at them from his seat atop the wall.

"One of these days, Eleanor," she murmured quietly, while receiving the goods Matilda and Sandra (the new kitchen maid) were unloading from the carriage, "your brother will notice that you have grown up and treat you with more respect. He _is_ very fond of you and means no harm."

Eleanor smiled her surrender and gave a small sigh. "I know, I just wish he wouldn't do it in front of my friends" She frowned at Henry's retreating back as the two sauntered off toward the food tables.

Mrs Tilney passed a basket full of strawberries from Captain Tilney's garden to an eager young fellow, wearing a grey corduroy cheese-cutter cap.

"Good afternoon, Desmond. How is your grandfather's foal?" She listened intently to Desmond's spirited report while supplying the queuing children with picnic rugs, parasols, bottles of wine, pitchers of fruit juices and many baskets of baking from the Abbey kitchen. For each child she had a warm smile or a pat on the head. After passing the last pie dish to a small boy who dashed off enthusiastically, un-intentionally jeopardising his delicate cargo, she interrupted Desmond's happy account of his equestrian prowess to dry the tears of a little girl, about three years of age.

Mrs Tilney crouched down and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve.

"Why Charlotte! Did you think I had forgotten to save something for you?" The only answer she received was a vehement nod from under the peaked bonnet covering wee Charlotte's curls.

"On the contrary, my sweet heart, you have the most important job of all! You know, I was so busy hearing Desmond recount his heroic cavalry feats that I quite forgot to attend to where my picnic went. Do you think you might be my guide?"

The three set off together, Mrs Tilney's hand firmly in Charlotte's proud possession, leaving Eleanor to follow with Matilda, Sandra and the furniture.

Eleanor was immediately welcomed by the quiet smile of Sandra's younger sister, Susan Brownley, who had already made room on the groaning tables for most of the Abbey contributions, and was setting up a drinks stand under the sprawling oak for the wine and juices. The girls had been friends for years, attending the same Sunday school class and attracted by their common love of nature. As soon as the last tray of glasses was arranged and Eleanor had draped the lace cover over all to discourage insects, Susan received unspoken permission from Sandra to slip away. Pulling Eleanor by the hand, she hurried down to the pond to check on the polliwogs they had discovered in the rushes last Sunday.

"I have been waiting for you to arrive before I looked," Susan confided, "although it was awfully hard to resist the temptation. You were such a long time coming."

"I didn't think we were that late," Eleanor replied with an innocent query on her face.

"No, I don't suppose you were really, but Mother had us down here an hour ago setting up and I have been at a loose end these past five minutes."

The two girls gathered their skirts in one hand as each parted the rushes nearest her to search for the little creatures. Eleanor was first to spot them.

"Here they are!"

Susan was immediately at her side as the girls exclaimed over the increase in size of the little fellows. Several of them had hind legs and one even had small front projections which were clearly the beginnings of great things.

"I suppose it is silly to name any of them yet, as they will look quite different as frogs," Eleanor stated resignedly, "but I can't help thinking that that big one with the legs looks just like a Bonaparte."

"Oh Eleanor!" Susan giggled, "What a fun idea! We could name them all after famous Captains and Admirals and imagine the pond is the English Channel."

Both girls were intent on trying to distinguish the character of each hitherto nameless entity, and failed to discern the danger they were in. Frederick and Charles stood grinning encouragement to Thomas Fraser, who was stealthily approaching the girls from behind. Some instinct made Eleanor look around just as he pushed Susan, and her reactive embrace of her startled friend saved the latter from a dunking. However she was not quick enough to save poor Susan from plunging one slippered foot into the muddy bog and drenching the hem of her dress.

"Of all the beastly scoundrels, Thomas, you are the worst! How dare you! And you, Frederick!" Eleanor turned her impassioned glare on her smirking brother. "How could you stand there and let him do such a thing?!"

"Well why should I stop him? She is only a nof. She should stay away from my sister if she knows what is good for her."

Susan, dumb with shock and shame at being humiliated in front of the boys, kept her head down and Eleanor between her and her assailants, not a sob to betray the tears which streamed unchecked down her cheeks. Was her friend's silence proof that she was re-considering her attachment to her? One surreptitious glance at Eleanor's speechless fury was enough to reassure Susan of her friend's loyalty.

"I shall never speak to him again." Eleanor muttered to Susan as she disdainfully led her past her sneering brother. By the time the girls arrived at the carriage, and Eleanor had helped Susan inside, she was sufficiently in control of her emotions to politely request that the groom guarding the horses summon her mother.

Mrs Tilney showed extreme displeasure at the news of her eldest son's cruelty. She agreed at once to send Matilda home with Susan to find a replacement set of clothes from Eleanor's wardrobe.

"For you know, mother," Eleanor had chosen to talk to her parent outside the carriage to spare her friend the further shame of hearing her disgrace recounted. "I don't believe she has another outfit suitable to change into."

"You are most likely correct." Mrs Tilney murmured, as she entered the carriage, and took the dishevelled girl into an embrace.

"Susan, I am so sorry that my son has treated you in such an unseemly way. It was inexcusable, and I assure you he will be punished. I am sending you home with Matilda who will dress you in some of Eleanor's things until we are able to launder your own and return them to you. Matilda is no gossip and I can assure you that word of this will not reach any ears beyond our own if I have any power to prevent it."

There was a grim sternness around Mrs Tilney's mouth which few had ever seen, and Susan had no doubt that Master Tilney, at least, would not be inclined to boast of her humiliation after an audience with his mother.

Concluding tears of gratitude, embraces of undying devotion and vows of vengeance between the two girls, they were temporarily parted and the Tilneys returned to the pleasure grounds with every semblance of normalcy intact.

Sandra was the only person who seemed to notice Susan's absence, with an enquiring glance at Eleanor, which the latter pretended to misunderstand. However the assembled parish were hungry and she soon had her hands full serving luncheon to the eager crowd.

Eleanor made sure she collected her food from one of the other tables, and sat down on the rug at her mother's feet while the ladies talked.

"How dreadfully tedious social engagements are since all the gentlemen are gone to the front," Lady Fraser lamented to Mrs Tilney as the latter set down her tea cup on a small table by her chair. "I can't understand why the Rushworths and the Chortons had to remove to Town solely because the men are away. Now we are forced to associate with the vulgar masses, or risk dying of boredom."

Mrs Brownly and Mrs Perkins exchanged indignant looks while Mrs Turner sat, eyes averted, picking at her food. Mrs Tilney however, with heightened colour and a steely look in her eye, was bold to declare her opposition.

"On the contrary, Phoebe, I much prefer our present company to the ill bred snobbery of many of our own class. It is so pleasant to be able to speak of intelligent subjects rather than endless speculations about who is likely to marry whom, and how much income each is likely to bring to the alliance."

Mrs Pickling, young Desmond's recently widowed mother, flashed her grateful smile to Mrs Tilney, humour reflected in her warm brown eyes. One or two of the other women resumed talking quietly to each other. Mrs Fraser was momentarily speechless and then, muttering something about replenishing her glass, rose and departed, leaving behind her a collective sigh of relief as the tension followed her.

"So Mrs Pickling, what intelligent topic shall we discuss? I gather from your youngest son's account that if this war does not conclude imminently you may have a family business breeding and training war steeds for the Cavalry branch of the armed forces."

The discussion of Desmond's latest project amused and delighted all the ladies for some time, naturally leading into the fads other young male parishioners had pursued over the years. Mrs Tilney smilingly followed the discussion for some time without contributing, watching Mrs Pickling fall silent and still beside her, until finally she leaned over and whispered an invitation to take a turn about the park. Mrs Pickling, startled out of her reverie, quickly rose to her feet, brushing her eyes under the pretence of adjusting the peak of her bonnet.

Eleanor quietly passed her mother and Mrs Pickling their parasols and took up her position on her mother's left side while Mrs Tilney gently tucked her friend's hand into the crook of her right arm.

Eleanor disciplined herself not to listen to their quiet murmurs, and instead spent the time reflecting on how superior the friendships both she and her mother made were to the shallow relationships that the Frasers and so many like them seemed to prize.

'_I would rather have Susan for a friend than Princess Charlotte herself!'_ Eleanor thought defiantly, the remembrance of Frederick's 'warning' bringing a flush to her cheek.

Mrs Pickling was a sweet, intelligent and sensitive woman, whom her mother had always regarded with affectionate esteem. Since her husband died in the battle of _ six months ago, their regard for each other had deepened into the most intimate friendship, which seemed to satisfy her mother as much as it blessed Mrs Pickling. The family had sold the small law practice in town and come to reside with Mrs Pickling's elderly father, a yeoman on the Fraser's land, hence Desmond's delight in the young livestock. His older brother Theodore had been learning the role of Farm worker to keep his grandfather from overworking his weary body to provide for the extra mouths. Eleanor had to admit she liked her Henry's choice of friend much better than the two Fraser boys that Frederick associated with. Her Father, on the other hand, was constantly courting the rich and famous to a degree which left Eleanor ashamed at his obvious mercenary ambitions.

Lost in her own thoughts, Eleanor did not notice how far they had walked until she felt her mother's hand on her arm.

"Time to turn back dear, I have just noticed the carriage pull in with Susan. She will want to see you."

Eleanor quickly hurried to intersect her friend as she passed a small copse of trees growing by the graveyard wall.

"Susan, you look so sweet in that pink muslin! It makes my complexion all sallow, but it really brings out the roses in your cheeks."

Susan's warm brown eyes glowed with pleasure at the compliment, and the girls ran to join the crowd of children engaged in races on the lawn.

Meanwhile, Mrs Tilney was deep in thought. Mrs Pickling had gone indoors to freshen up, so she had continued along the waterside walk alone.

Phoebe Fraser's snobbery had done very little harm to Serena Pickling's naturally modest sensitivities, but the thoughtless reference to the men being gone had caused a deep wound barely healed to smart once more.

Mrs Tilney took advantage of a well located seat and gazed with unseeing eyes across the surface of the pond. "I fear time is the only restorative for pain like this," she mused to herself. "Although being sheltered from such callous indifference would certainly prove beneficial. It cannot do her good residing on the Fraser lands and being obliged to help in the manor, whenever they have company, to supplement Mr Weir's income."

Mrs Fraser was the type of woman who secured her own station in life from reminding others of theirs at every possible opportunity. Such an affectation of superiority was only possible by denying any common feeling between the classes.

Her reverie was broken by male voices approaching along the walk. Recognising her husband's cold, harsh voice she considered leaving, but the sound of her youngest son's humble appeasing tone arrested her. She could not yet make out the words, but as they rounded the end of the walk and turned toward her the subject of their conflict became apparent.

"...to fraternise with those beneath your station." Captain Tilney was saying. "You have a family heritage and class which is completely foreign to such common farm labourers, and I insist it remain that way."

"Father, you know I would never intentionally dishonour your name, but they are good people: intelligent and kind. Ted is well worth my friendship. I only hope I am worthy of his."

Mrs Tilney rose to her feet, and Henry, who had been gazing ahead with a fixed and pale visage, registered her presence with a strained smile. Her husband however, blinded by anger, did not immediately perceive her.

"You dare to challenge my judgment?" he queried icily. "Then you leave me no option but to forbid you to see that boy ever again."

Mrs Tilney, heart sinking at the sight of Henry's stricken face, stepped toward the two and was given a smiling welcome by her husband, who instantly became all charm.

"Henry, go and summon your siblings to the carriage. It is time we departed," he ordered curtly and then fell into step beside his wife, tucking her hand inside his arm as they walked.

"Have you enjoyed your afternoon my love?" he queried after they paced in silence for some time.

Mrs Tilney did not know how to answer, so disturbed was she at the scene she had recently witnessed. She opened her mouth to say something cutting but closed it without releasing the words. In the end she settled for an inane comment about the pond setting and the signs of spring in the grounds, which helped keep the turmoil of her mind in check until they reached the safety of the carriage.

Breathless from the exertion and fun, _les filles jeurne_ returned from the athletics in proud possession of a blue ribbon.

"I am delighted that you won the egg 'n spoon race, Susan; you deserved it." Eleanor took her friends hand and swung it happily as they meandered together towards the oak which shaded the refreshments from the blazing sun.

"I practice each morning while caring for Grandfather's chickens," Susan confided, grinning at Eleanor. "I had to use a pair of sticks, which is much harder, so substituting a spoon makes it _childsplay_."

They descended upon the table, laughing at Susan's account of explaining the broken eggs to her mother, and drank their fill of cool lemonade. There were several other girls quenching their thirst too and after a while the older boys sauntered up, including Frederick and Charles. The girls exchanged a glance and, without a word between them, agreed that they had lingered there long enough.

With heads down they quickly scurried away toward the food tables where the women were tidying away leftover food and piling cleanly washed dishes for collection. Pretending to be engrossed in the labour of selecting the biggest, shiniest apple from a barrel brought by cart from Mr Fotheringhame's orchard, Eleanor surreptitiously watched the boys through lowered eyelashes.

"I do not think they noticed us," she reported in a low tone to Susan who had turned her back to the boys to avoid their notice with a face the colour of un-skimmed milk.

"I cannot see Thomas though..." She turned her head towards the women and smiled casually as she scanned the vista for any sign of their third tormentor. As she turned back to Susan she quickly darted a look toward the carriage and lake area beside it.

Eleanor was about to reassure her friend that all was well when she noticed Henry hurrying toward them with a very serious countenance, almost the equal of Susan's in pallor.

"Eleanor, Father has asked me to summon you. He desires to leave immediately." Henry delivered the message tersely without his usual grin. He immediately dashed away giving his sister no time to voice her surprise and the two girls gazed wonderingly after him as he approached Frederick with the same message.

"Thankyou so much, Eleanor," Susan squeezed her friends hand, as she accompanied Eleanor back to the carriage, "for defending me before, as well as for lending me this dress."

"You would do me two favours if you would never return it," Eleanor whispered in Susan's ear, squeezing back as they walked. "One would be the pleasure I would get from seeing how pretty it makes you, and the other would be never again having to don it myself. "

Captain Tilney was standing at the door of the carriage, having just assisted his wife inside, and stared sternly at his daughter as they approached.

"Make haste please, Eleanor, we don't want to keep your mother waiting," he demanded, completely ignoring her companion.

Startled, Eleanor looked questioningly at her Father.

"What is wrong? Is Mother all right?"

"Yes, yes, just get inside." The General roughly snatched her hand away from Susan's and shoved her in the door.

Disconcerted by the rude abruptness of her friend's father, Susan walked away a few yards and then turned to wave goodbye. Eleanor's face was flushed with embarrassment and dismay. Her wave from the window was half-hearted and apologetic. She felt tears pricking her eyes as she watched Susan return to the picnic grounds, pressing close to the wall with eyes averted as Frederick and Henry passed her in the opposite direction. Eleanor turned to her Mother who was watching her sadly, and spoke her mind in a low tone.

"I wish Father would not be so impolite to Susan, Mother. If only he would trouble himself to become acquainted with her he would soon see how courteous and delightful she is."

"You and I know she is, my dear, and that is what matters. Please don't be too hard hearted towards your Father. He means to protect you from scandal and bad company, and that is a good motive, even if he has sorely misjudged poor Susan."

"Susan is the best company in the world," protested Eleanor. "She could be no more scandalous than... the Apostle Paul!"

Mrs Tilney hid a smile. "Well, the Apostle Paul was no stranger to social rejection, my dear; he was embroiled in one scandal after another. I am sure Susan would be much more discrete than he; and less confrontational, although equally true hearted."

The door swung open and Henry climbed inside, taking the seat beside his sister. The carriage swayed as Frederick clambered onto the seat beside the driver, and the door opened a second time to admit the General.

There was an uncomfortable silence all the way home broken only once by General Tilney as the horses swung into the carriage sweep in front of the Abbey.

"Everyone is to gather in the front parlour in ten minutes," he announced as he stepped from the carriage and turned to assist Mrs Tilney down. As he walked her to the front door, Henry provided the same service to Eleanor; a lot more soberly than he had at the picnic. Eleanor caught his eye and failed to invoke more than a tight little lift of the mouth in response to her concerned smile.

"Henry, what happened to make Father so angry?"

He looked at her a long moment before glancing toward the house, and down at his boot which casually kicked the lime sand drive.

"Father does not approve of my choice of companion," he grimaced.

He crooked his elbow stiffly for Eleanor to take and walked her inside.


	4. Chapter 4: Scoldings and Separations

**Chapter Four: Scoldings and Separations**

It is a rare woman indeed who can sustain an optimistic and affectionate demeanor toward a vain peacock of a husband, while still maintaining her own quiet integrity, perception and even temper. The family meeting following the annual parish picnic gives us an excellent opportunity to become acquainted with the fortitude of Mrs Tilney in a circumstance which would drive a lesser woman to embittered despair.

General Tilney was an intimidating man at the best of times, but when his visage was smouldering with barely suppressed fury one could easily imagine the qualities which had facilitated his promotion within the armed forces. He ruled his family with the same authority and unwavering determination which resulted in grown men willingly giving up their lives rather than challenging such apparently divine resolve. However, although his children feared and respected their father, they held a dissatisfaction with his style of leadership, which chaffed at all three according their own dispositions.

Frederick sprawled carelessly on the window seat and examined the wear on his boot with studied indifference. He was the least inclined to question his parent's motives. His only complaint was that his fun with his friends had been cut short and he had been called away just as he had begun to ask Deborah Smith to give him one of her hair ribbons. He had been working on Deborah for some weeks now, undermining her reserve, and felt he was making considerable progress. He flicked a small clod of dirt onto the immaculate floor and frowned as he rubbed at a scuff mark on the heel.

Eleanor, timidly perched on the arm of the chair in which her mother sat, looked ready to fly out the window at the slightest glance of her paternal predator. She had convinced herself that Father had overheard her comment to Susan about the dress. He had brought it as a gift for Eleanor on Mrs Fraser's recommendation. Now the less-than-grateful, original recipient was miserably contriving how to request it it back from Susan without devastating the poor girl, who had been so delighted, yet hesitant, about accepting the gift that afternoon.

Henry sat on the huge couch, elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands: the personification of dejection. Mrs Tilney sent up a silent prayer for wisdom and endurance, both for herself and her younger son as she waited for her husband to begin.

"I was ashamed and disgusted with all of you this afternoon," The general began, hand resting on the mantel and foot on the hearth: as if he were representing the opinion, not only of himself, but of his grandfather Lord Horatio Tilney, who glared sternly down from the portrait above at his errant descendents.

"You are the Tilneys of Northanger Abbey. Your Father is a general in His Majesty's army. I expect you to uphold the family honour by behaving in a manner befitting your station."

He glared at each of his children in turn, his smouldering glower lingering longest on Henry's bowed head. All three waited in trepidation for him to continue.

"Frederick, you alone have chosen companions worthy of your notice, and I commend you." Eleanor stared from her father to her smirking brother with indignant incredulity.

" However," her Father continued, oblivious to his daughter's flushed cheeks, "I could not help but perceive the three of you loitering around some of the town wenches. They are daughters of tradesmen and not worthy of your attentions, Frederick. I expect you to stay away from them in the future."

Frederick's brow lowered into a hard closed look, but he said nothing.

"Eleanor," Her head jerked up and her face whitened as she stared at her Father with widened eyes.

"I will not have you befriending the servants and their families. Have you no pride, child? You are a lady not a commoner. I forbid you to speak to that girl again."

Eleanor gasped, and tears welled up in her eyes, but, after a brief moment's struggle she managed to whisper "Yes Father," and turned away so he could not perceive the distress submission cost her. Feeling the warm fingers of her mother enveloping her own increased the effort required to hold back the sobs, although Eleanor was grateful for the support.

"Henry, stand to attention when I address you." Henry jerked to his feet and stood stiffly, staring fixedly at a speck of grey on his Father's sideburn.

General Tilney took a step closer to his son and lowered his voice to a quiet but menacing tone.

"You will not defy me again as you did this afternoon. " He paused to let the words sink in, while Henry stood motionless and pale.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." The words shot out of Henry's mouth like bullets from a musket but without the usual kick back.

General Tilney stared at his youngest son for a full minute before finally looking around the room, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time.

"Well that's settled then," he announced cheerfully, looking at his pocket watch.

"Tea will be served in 18 minutes. You may all be excused to freshen up." He turned on his heel and left the room, followed soon after by Frederick, muttering something about not being hungry. He left through the front door and headed toward the stables.

Mrs Tilney arose and squeezed her daughter's hands before moving to where Henry had slumped back down, following his Father's departure. Placing a tender hand on his shoulder, she whispered "Let me talk to him." and left the two alone.

"What happened, Henry?"Eleanor slipped onto the couch beside her brother and rested a trembling hand on the small of his back.

"Was it about Teddy again?"

There was no answer from her brother, but Eleanor could feel the tension in his muscles and each shuddering breath as he strove to master the turmoil of grief and anger inside. She forgot her own pain in the intensity of Henry's and wondered if she should leave him alone rather than embarrass him with her presence. She removed her hand and began to rise from her seat when Henry reached up and pulled her back down again.

"Don't leave me, Nora" He appealed in a strained voice, "Talk to me about something else...please?"

Eleanor could not deny the appeal in the eyes he lifted to her face. She sifted through the days happenings to find some trivial morsel with which to distract him, while Henry arose and stood with his back to her, staring vacantly down the drive.

"Well let me see now, Oh yes, do you recall me telling you of the tadpoles in the pond that Susan and I discovered two Sundays ago? Well they have grown legs now. We had the most marvelous idea that we could name them after admirals in the war! There was one, which appeared bolder and bigger than all the rest which I named Napoleon, and next week Susan...", her voice trailed away as the remembrance of her Father's command recalled her to her own loss.

Henry heard her voice falter and immediately guessed its cause. Turning he grasped both her hands in his and smiled down into her moist eyes, his own troubles momentarily overshadowed by an awareness of hers.

"Next week you shall take me down there and I will help you to build a fleet of war galleys which will do the Royal Navy proud, " he finished for her. "I have seen a pile of off-cuts, from the extensions Grandfather did to the domestic quarters, stacked in the back of the wood shed and Stokes said I may use any of them under two yards long. Why don't you come with me after breakfast tomorrow, and I shall teach you how to whittle?"

"Thank you, Henry." Gratitude smiled back at him, as much for the prospect of busyness in each others company, and the comfort that would bring, as for the offer to admit her to his boyish world of wood, tools and creativity; which she had always longed to experience but had formerly been denied.

"Come now, we have four minutes left before tea." Henry stood with his usual decisiveness and ushered her into the hall.

Mrs Tilney considered pursuing her husband immediately but, recalling the brevity of available time, wisely decided to await a more opportune moment. Instead she spent the time following her toilette in prayer to a higher authority: to the one person who was able to soften the heart of her husband and bring good out of the trials he had inflicted on her children and herself.

Her opportunity occurred the next morning following breakfast. Mrs Tilney had refrained from attending the breakfast parlor due to abdominal pains. Her maid had brought her a tray and to her surprise it was the General who answered the summons for it to be removed.

"How are you feeling, my dear." was his concerned greeting.

She was encouraged by his unusual attention, and silently prayed that this might be the opportunity she had sought.

"I am improved, thank you, Ferdinand, but I couldn't face breakfast downstairs this morning."

"Your usual complaint?"

"Yes, I believe so. What causes it, I wonder? Perhaps I overate at the picnic yesterday."

"Shall I send for the physician?" General Tilney frowned as he took the seat by his wife's dresser.

"No, I don't believe that is necessary." Mrs Tilney replied, "I am feeling better for having had a cup of tea. I feel I could come downstairs now."

"There is no need to hurry. You ought to wait until after noon at the earliest." said the General firmly in a voice which invited no disagreement.

Mrs Tilney leaned back on the cushions and surveyed the bright cheerful furnishings with a contented sigh.

"This room is so pleasant since you re-decorated it for me, Ferdinand. It is no hardship at all to be unwell in it."

The General arose and strolled proudly around the spacious room caressing the damask curtains and admiring the marbled fire surround. He lingered at the casement and ran his finger along the window ledge checking for dust.

"Yes, I dare say it is as fine as any that Sir Fraser might have furnished for _his_ wife, and with a much better aspect. Fraser Lodge is so dour."

"Talking about furnishings, I wondered what you were planning to do with my old dresser and carpets. The ladies yesterday were talking about what we could do for families in the parish who are finding it difficult to provide for themselves with their men folk away with the militia. I wondered if we could donate some of our old things to cheer up some of the particularly dismal ones."

"I have no objection to giving them to charity if that makes you happy, my love."

Emboldened by his cooperative response, Mrs Tilney pressed on. "Would it be agreeable to you if Eleanor and I joined the visitation team? The Ladies Aid are planning to arrange a roster."

The General frowned a moment then turned to face his wife.

"I do not approve of Eleanor or Henry mingling with the lower classes, Emily, they are too inclined to form attachments."

"I understand, my dear," Emily sent up a quick prayer for wisdom as she stared at her hands waiting for the right response to come to her lips.

"You know," she ventured hesitantly, "I've often noticed that lower classes are more inclined to render the respect due to gentry when they have opportunity to receive attention and concern from them along with the usual offerings accompanying such visits. My own Father practices this on the Drummond estate, as did my mother while she lived. It would please me immensely to give Eleanor the opportunity to learn how to be a gracious lady like Mother, as Mama did not survive to impart that lesson herself."

Mrs Tilney hoped that the mention of her Father's example would speak more to her husband than any other argument. The General had greatly admired the loyalty and devotion that his Father-in-law received from the servants and farm workers on the Drummond estate, and had in times past lamented his own misfortune to receive such sub-standard service from the Northanger people.

There was a long pause while The General processed these thoughts. He strode over to the windows and contemplated the far reaches of the Abbey grounds, beyond which the spires of Northanger Chapel reached proudly skyward.

"I have been thinking," he said. "It is time Eleanor learned to be a Lady and earn the respect of the commoners. She ought to accompany you on your visitations of mercy to the poor."

"What an excellent plan, my love." Emily rejoiced secretly to herself, more than happy to allow him the credit for the idea. She smiled happily into her husband's face, offering him her hand.

"You will undoubtedly notice a difference in the parish as a result of your generosity, dearest."

The general kissed his wife's knuckles correctly, then retired to his study, leaving Mrs Tilney alone with her prayers of thanksgiving for the small triumph.

**Again, I am grateful to my Beta readers Clar and Billi, and also to Pereadan, for her helpful comments on writing in general and Regency Fiction in particular. I thoroughly recommend each of these writers.  
Also of course Jane Austen herself, who created this most delightfully interesting family.  
I hope you enjoyed seeing a softer side to the General in this chapter. Here is a question for the grammar experts. Ought I give General Tilney capitals when I refer to him as "the general" or not, and why? I find myself fluctuating between Caps and Lower case.**

**Also, how do I get solid lines to stay in my edited version. I have previously used shift underscore but it is not working...**


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